


Home Again

by incessant



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incessant/pseuds/incessant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Sam just stares at her, speechless. He’s too stunned to say anything as she slides off of him and offers him her hand.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Trust me, Sam.” Her words ring through his head even after she’s gone and he’s hidden in his room.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“They like you, too.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>In which Sam is bad at feelings, Bucky and Steve are a couple, and Natasha thinks the three of them really just need to get together already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Again

Sam hates Bucky.

At least, that’s what he tells himself as he watches Bucky disappear into Steve’s bedroom for a little too long, and again when Steve pulls Bucky into his lap on movie night, and when Bucky wraps his arms around Steve in the middle of the Avengers Tower, and again when he finally accepts that with Bucky back, he doesn’t have a chance with Steve. So he _has_ to hate him.

The problem is he doesn’t.

In fact, Sam _likes_ him. Bucky is a likable guy, and attractive, and sweet, and a little shy, and totally adorable, and kind of clueless, but also a complete badass when he wants to be. Like, seriously badass. He’s fucking _deadly_. Sam would being lying if he said it wasn’t hot.

But Sam is always lying to himself, because he can’t like two people like that at once when they’re both already in a relationship. With each other. And they’re his coworkers. And famous superheroes who’ve known each other for what’s nearing on a century. So he just _can’t_ , can’t keep hoping for something that just won’t happen. He always frowns when he finds himself thinking about all of them together, though, or when he catches himself staring at Bucky’s ass as he walks away, or when he lets his mind wander to Steve’s bedroom and what exactly the Winter Soldier is doing to Captain America with those perfect fucking fingers. . . .

And he definitely would frown when he sneaks away to his own room to take care of . . . _business_ if he wasn’t always so distracted by his dangerous thoughts and those muffled moans and the blush burning up his cheeks and the fact that Natasha _knows_.

He can see it in her sly grin and suggestive winks, and if that wasn’t enough, she stops being subtle about it after a few weeks of underhanded teasing.

Sam is taking out his frustration on one of the many punching bags strung up in the training room, trying to rid himself of the unresolved tension and confused feelings that have been building up ever since they first brought Bucky home, when she finally approaches him.

“What’s got you so riled up?” she quips as he lands a particularly violent punch.

“You know what,” he grits through his teeth, trying to keep his swings from getting too wild. Sometimes it’s hard to keep a lid on things. And Bucky and Steve seem to be good at making things hard.

 _Fuck_. He stops suddenly, reaching out to catch the punching bag and keep it still, distracted. Sam really didn’t need that image in his minds.

Natasha’s lips quirk up into an amused smile as she takes in his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” she murmurs, turning to set down her gym bag and water bottle.  
Sam tries not to stare as she takes off her shirt to reveal a black sports bra that matches her leggings, because he really needs to stop looking at his teammates like that, and goes back to fucking up the punching bag in front of him.

The silence that falls over them is comfortable, the thud of Sam’s fists hitting home soon joined by Natasha’s. It’s not until she proposes a spar and they step into the ring that things change. Because Bucky walks in with Steve, slipping out of his shirt as he moves toward the other sparring mat, while Steve follows suit.

It’s a stupid mistake, letting himself get distracted like that, but he can’t help the way his mouth practically waters as he watches both soldiers smoothly remove their shirts and begin—

A fist collides with his cheek, obstructing his view of the two men and knocking him off balances. Two seconds later, Sam finds himself pinned to the mat by Natasha as she straddles him, holding his arms over his head. Under any other circumstance, he would find himself helplessly turned on. A gorgeous woman on top of him, leaning over him in a not-so-innocent position, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

But Bucky and Steve are _right there,_ and he can’t help glancing over at the two of them, desperate to keep his eyes on them.

He grits his teeth when he notices their match somehow turned into a makeout fest, quickly returning his gaze to Nat.

She rolls her eyes when he finally does, and Sam flushes, turning away again. He doesn’t mean to, but his gaze slides back to the other pair and his blush darkens. Normally, at this point, his breath would have evened out but the only thing that changes is the way his heart starts beating faster.

Natasha glances over at Bucky and Steve, just as Bucky looks up and catches Sam’s eyes, somehow managing to smirk and possessively dominate Steve’s mouth at the same time.

Well. Sam has to deny he shuddered at that.

“Hey, lovebirds, get a room, will you?” Natasha calls over, grinning when Steve doesn’t look back and Bucky gives her the finger.

“You saw that, right?” Sam mutters after her attention shifts back to him, glaring at the ceiling above Nat. “That smug bastard fucking _grinned_ at me.”

Natasha laughs loudly, and Bucky’s eyes are back on the two of them as he whispers something into Steve’s neck.

Natasha smiles down at Sam, so sweetly that it makes Sam worry about her next words. “You know, if you two weren’t always competing for Steve’s attention like little kids fighting over their favorite toy, maybe you would realize all three of you want to get in bed with each other and just _fuck already_ ,” she murmurs into his ear, so softly it seems unusual in contrast to her words. “Get it over with, Wilson,” Natasha says, and Sam winces at the lack of effort she’s employing to keep her voice down. “You’ve got two incredibly hot guys pining for you just as hard as you are for them, and I can’t have the sexual tension between all of you messing with my workout.”

Sam blinks. “Bu—”

“No.” Nat raises a hand and Sam cuts himself off. “Stop lying to yourself, man. As entertaining as this has been, I’d be a terrible wingman if I didn’t tell you to go get ’em. They like you, too.”

Sam just stares at her, speechless. He’s too stunned to say anything as she slides off of him and offers him her hand.

“Trust me, Sam.” Her words ring through his head even after she’s gone and he’s hidden in his room.

_“They like you, too.”_

 

Sam feels like his senses go into hyperdrive after Natasha lets him know there might still be a chance. He notices everything, and not in a good way: it sets him on edge. The other Avengers are noticing too, the way he flinches when Steve says his name, the way he finds an excuse to leave when Steve and Bucky are in a room with him at the same time, the way he turns around and ignores everyone when he encounters one of them, the way he gets distracted and nearly messes up an entire fucking mission Vision barely manages to salvage. The way he stops sleeping after that.

The way he goes back to spending nights at his apartment, far away from the tower and the team and his problems.

Sam doesn’t know why he’s not over the moon like he should be, but he can’t shake the thing inside him that’s just screaming, _“danger.”_ The last time he liked someone like this, he lost them. He can’t lose Steve and Bucky, too.

So Sam does the only thing he can. He puts as much distance between them as possible.

 

The voicemails from Natasha keep flowing in, but it takes Sam over a week to force himself to listen to them.

_“Hey, man, we’re worried about you. None of us know what’s up, and we’ll give you space but isn’t going to Paris a little extreme? And, did you really have to leave a note? We missed out on goodbyes. Please call, so we can fix this, alright? I need to know you’re okay. They do, too. They miss you, I can see it. It’s eating them up.”_

_“Just checking in, we haven’t heard from you in a while. When are you getting back from France? We can’t wait.”_

_“Sam, it’s me again. Stop ignoring us, we’re all freaking out.”_ A pause. _“Especially them. You know we’re okay, right? No one blames you. We all love you. Please come home.”_

_“Sam, it’s Natasha. I know you’re getting these messages so pick the goddamn phone up before I have to find you myself.”_

_“I swear to God, Sam, answer me or I will fucking rip your—”_ She lapses into Russian and Sam doesn’t need a translator to know he needs to pick up next time.

 _“Wilson. If I have to fly out there just to shake your lazy ass out of bed and make sure you’re alive, you had better hope you’re not by the time I get there,”_ Natasha hisses when Sam finally calls her back.

“Hi,” he murmurs into the line as he unlocks the door to his hotel in France.

 _“Well, looks who’s not dead.”_ Sam can imagine her glaring at him, and he winces. He knows he fucked up, he’s just not ready to admit it.

 _“Yet!”_ he hears someone yell in the background, and he immediately recognizes it to be Tony. Shit, he’s gonna get it.

 _“Wait, he’s actually there?”_ someone else asks, and there’s a moment of silence before several muffled voices all fight for recognition.

 _“Hey!”_ Natasha snaps. _“My phone, my turn to yell at Wilson.”_ And then she’s going off on him.

Sam closes his eyes and prays his death will be swift and quick.

 

It really isn’t.

Forty hours, a lot of packing, and a few flights later, Sam finds himself in the Avengers Tower, and they’re _still_ yelling at him.

Vision wasn’t particularly vocal in his reprimands, but the disappointed and hurt look he keeps sending Sam’s way is just as painful. Wanda gets over it relatively quickly, followed by Tony (who, surprisingly, isn’t accompanied by Rhodes tonight), and eventually, Nat. Bucky doesn’t say much, just stands there stiffly, and Steve is nowhere to be seen. It ties his stomach into knots and makes his chest ache.

Sam doesn’t know what to think about that or what to expect the next time he does see him, so he makes an excuse about a headache and jet lag and tries to make his old room feel like home again.

 

The silence that stretches between Sam and Steve and Bucky is uncomfortable at best. Agony is probably a more accurate description, and it’s eating Sam alive. He wants to apologize, he just doesn’t know _how._

Sam just needs to get it over with.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles one day as the captain passes him in the hallway without Bucky at his side. It’s a little easier to admit it when two people aren’t glowering at him or looking like hurt puppies.

Sam is about to keep walking when he doesn’t get a response, but then strong arms reach out for him and he wouldn’t move if he could. He definitely doesn’t complain when Steve pulls him into a hug and holds him a little too tight for a little too long.

“We missed you,” Steve breathes into his shoulder. “Both of us.”

He’s gone so fast Sam isn’t entirely sure it even happened.

 

Sam has to admit he’s a little more than surprised when Bucky catches up with him in the training room and asks if he wants to fight. He has to admit he’s a little scared, too, that Bucky might just be using “training” as an excuse to beat him up.

But the match goes relatively smoothly (even though Sam has to convince himself not to focus on the way Bucky’s touch seems to leave fire lingering wherever his hands land more than once), and Sam is pretty proud of how well he’s holding up against the Winter Soldier. And then Bucky actually starts trying and Sam is pressed into the mat in less than fifteen seconds. So.

A little less proud now. And a little more turned on? _This fucking b—_

And Bucky’s chuckling in his ear, like he _knows._

Who is he kidding? Of course he knows.

“Natasha was right, by the way,” Bucky whispers, close enough that his breath tickles Sam’s ear. He barely suppresses a shiver. “We do like you.”

Sam chokes on his words and Bucky is long gone when he finally has a response, but the next time Sam runs into Steve and Bucky, he lets them pull him back into one of their rooms, mouths crashing against each other the second the door is closed, hands everywhere, bodies pressed against as close as possible. Sam loses himself in warm arms and feelings he should have given into ages ago.

 

“Can you move over?” Sam’s voice is muffled by his pillow. He’s too comfortable to move himself, floating on the afterglow, but Bucky is sweaty and so is Steve and they’re all sticking together in a very un-sexy way.

His question is greeted by silence until there’s a grunt of acknowledgement followed by a very final, “No.”

Sam groans as Bucky throws a leg over him just to show how serious he is about not moving, but he quickly relaxes, practically melting into Bucky’s side as the soldier leaves a trail of light kisses from the corner of his jaw down to the base of his neck.

“This is payback,” Bucky murmurs against his skin, “for not moving your seat forward in that tiny ass getaway car.”

That startles a laugh out of Steve as he manages to roll closer.

“You didn’t give me space,” Bucky continues in a low whisper, leaning into Sam so he can catch his earlobe between his teeth, “so I’m not giving you any.”

Sam sighs contentedly, sinking into the soft mattress and enjoying the warmth radiating off of the two bodies beside him

“Mm, well, I don’t think I’ll be wanting any space from you any time soon,” he murmurs.

Both men take that as an invitation to move closer, and Sam smiles.

 _Yeah,_ he decides, _this feels like home again._


End file.
